


8 Parts of Rum

by CancerianWastelandCat



Series: GazettE FanFics for Black _Lives_Matter [2]
Category: the GazettE (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, but its nothing grand, reita is weak with alcohol and he knows, time frame: pwtds 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CancerianWastelandCat/pseuds/CancerianWastelandCat
Summary: Reita's learned how to mix cocktails and it gets to his head, but he's not mad about it. In fact, it comes very much in handy.
Relationships: Reita/Uruha (the GazettE)
Series: GazettE FanFics for Black _Lives_Matter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783252
Kudos: 16





	8 Parts of Rum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyuxing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyuxing/gifts).



> Thank you so much for taking part in my little GazettE-FFs-For-BLM project and I hope you enjoy the way I worked with your request <3

“Okay. Then give it a shot.”

Uruha giggled at his own pun, making his way over to the big leather couch, while Reita stared at the cocktail shaker that had been left in his hand. He had spent two hours learning “the art of mixing drinks” as Uruha liked to call it, yet he still wasn't sure if he’d really understood. There wasn't much art to it in  _ his _ opinion anyway—a bunch of liquor and some ice in a glass could hardly be called that, he thought. However, he knew it was one of Uruha’s biggest passions and since Uruha always listened to  _ his _ rambles about birds and cars and such, it was only natural to return the favor. 

“I’m gonna go for… a Daiquiri,” Reita announced after scanning the little recipe booklet for something easy, and reached for the measuring cup. “You said the spirit is always the base so that’s… the rum in this case.” 

He opened the bar’s front panel—greeted by the familiar view of  _ way _ too many liquor bottles for one person to own—and began searching through it. Until now it had always been Uruha mixing their drinks here whenever they sat together in the evenings, just the two or all of them, over sheets of music. Having to go through every single label himself now, Reita couldn't help but feel like he had been set up to fail from the start. Uruha honestly remembered which bottle stood where  _ by heart? _ Well, that was just insane. 

It took him ten minutes to find the white Cuban rum, hidden behind a bulky whisky carafe and a tall gin bottle. Absolutely Uruha had been watching him all this time and  _ absolutely _ had he waited to speak up until the very moment Reita was about to pour the first part of rum into the shaker. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked and Reita had to sway the jigger in a dangerous half-circle so as to not spill anything. 

_ “Huh?  _ What are you on about?”

“The ice.” 

Reita stared into the shaker. 

“Oh. Yeah, forgot about that. How much do I gotta put in there?”

Uruha huffed a laugh. He was leaning back now, arms splayed out across the couch’s backrest. He looked very entertained.

“As much as you think you need.”

“How the fuck am  _ I _ supposed to know how much ice this drink needs, Uruha?”

“Just go by the feeling. But keep in mind the ice is going to melt and water down the rest of the ingredients.” 

Reita was still staring into the shaker, pursing his lips at the premise of a watered-down drink. It wasn't like him to drink particularly heavy beverages but having a cocktail taste all diluted didn't sound very enjoyable either. That, and something in the way Uruha was looking at him was telling him that  _ perhaps _ a bit of a permille boost was going to do him good. But that thought had to remain at the back of his mind. 

“Yeah no, we don't want that,” he concluded, not so sure what he was referring to himself, and scooped a single cup of ice into the silver container. The rest of the assembly went more or less smoothly. Uruha fetched him a lime from the kitchen and after some shaking and a bit of a debate about what the hell the difference between grenadine and simple syrup was, the drink was finished. And the smell was  _ delicious. _

“Give it a taste,” Uruha encouraged him. So Reita did just that but apparently there were things to be done wrong even here. Next thing he knew, Uruha was shooting up from the couch like a tarantula had bitten him, an arm extended, his eyes wide with disbelief and his mouth open. 

“No!” he exclaimed so loudly Reita almost dropped the glass in shock. “Not like that! I said  _ give it a taste _ , not  _ down it _ , oh my god- ” 

“Well, was I supposed to just give it a tiny little sip or something?”

_ “Yes!” _

“But I’m not gonna taste anything like that!” 

Uruha’s hands came to a rest on the edge of the bar. He exhaled heavily through his nose, continuing to shake his head. 

“I swear to God, you're such a boor sometimes, ‘Kira.”

Reita tensed, though not visibly. Every damn time Uruha called him by that nickname it made his heart jump a little and the heat crawling into his cheeks made his body feel all tingly. He hated admitting to the feeling, but even now the sensation was clear as day.

For the past month or so, things had been … weird between them. No doubt Reita had himself to blame for that. He had initiated that almost-kiss after all. He had also chickened out in the last second. And while they had only ended up in a half-hug with both their instruments in their other hands, and it had looked completely harmless to their fans, Reita had felt little short of nauseous after getting off-stage at the end of that show. Not because he’d realized how stupid it’d been to take such a risk, or because Uruha had given him the awkward-silence treatment. 

It was simply because Reita was in love with his best friend; and he hadn't cared if anybody saw. 

He’d tried telling himself that it was just his brain making things up, that it meant nothing. People fell in love with their best friends all the time, didn't they? They knew each other since childhood, someone was always bound to wonder  _ what if there was more.  _ And it wasn't like they hadn't messed around; they sure had experimented here and there, in their teens, and it had never changed anything for their friendship. But Reita wasn't a teen any longer. 

So he stood, silently watching Uruha fetch more alcohol and listening to him say how he was “going to make a proper cocktail now” and how Reita was “definitely gonna feel that, that was  _ 8 parts rum and you just chugged it like that. _ ”    
All this time, he couldn't stop thinking about how Uruha had to have known what his intentions had been that night. Reita hadn't imagined the surprise in his eyes just seconds before he’d covered it with that typical nose-crinkling giggle of his. Or had he?

Perhaps this was just the alcohol talking. Uruha was right, 8 parts rum on that little ice didn't go well on a stomach filled with barely two cups of ramen. Reita took the second drink from him anyway. Intoxication was slowly making his way throughout his body and so he figured that, if he  _ was _ going to confess tonight, he might as well grant himself some liquid courage.

“Now please for the love of God, just take a sip,” Uruha teased as he slid the glass over to him with lifted eyebrows. 

“And what’s this one called, Mr. Cocktail Master?”

Uruha scoffed. “It’s one of my own creations.”

“That’s a bit of a long name, don't you think?” Reita laughed dumbly at his own joke. Great, the rum was doing its work. 

Lifting the glass to his lips, he took “a sip”— which was really a normal gulp in his language, but at least he didn't down the whole thing. It was quite delicious of course, a lot fruitier than the Daiquiri Reita had made, with a slightly bitter note in the finish. It was also, while not entirely devoid of alcohol, clearly weaker than the Daiquiri. Which didn't mean the liquor didn't immediately take off into his bloodstream.

“Whoa,” he made like the most illiterate idiot all while Uruha examined him in amusement. 

“This is good. I mean, ‘eally good. Like the fruity bits. Nice touch. What’s in there?”

"Whiskey. One of the lightest ones I have.” 

Reita glared at Uruha across the rim of his second “sip.” 

“Keep shoving it in my face, why don't you.”

“Well, don't keep drinking if you can't take it!” Uruha laughed, divesting Reita of the half-empty glass and drinking the rest of it. “Why did you even ask me to show you all this when you know you’re weak with alcohol?” 

Reita dug his teeth into his lip. He turned away with his arms crossed in front of his chest like a child and leaned back against the bar. 

“I guess I just wanted to show you that I’m interested in you,” he mumbled with a shrug. “Int’rested in… your interests, I mean.” 

Uruha’s eyes next to him narrowed at him so quickly Reita could almost feel it but he didn't say anything.  _ This is how it begins… _

Then he burped, and Uruha broke into roaring laughter. 

“Oh my  _ God _ , Akira, really?” he spluttered, already bent over to keep his belly from hurting Reita assumed.

“Dude, you’re the worst. Do you need to lay down or something? You can sleep here if you don't want to drive home. You probably shouldn’t anyway.” 

Reita snorted. But again, Uruha was right. His vision was indeed starting to spin a little. Uruha was probably not thinking anything of it when he motioned his best friend to follow him down the hall to the bedroom, but Reita … did. Even in his half drunken state he realized that they were heading straight (or not so straight) for doom. 

And indeed, after taking two steps into the room, Reita made a single wrong one and his foot caught in the strap of an empty guitar case leaning against a side table. He moved without realizing, sending the case  _ and them _ toppling over; the case onto the floor and them right onto the bed. 

“Whoa- Wait, ouch!” 

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry- ”

“No, t’was my fault, I stumbled- ”

“Wait, let me just tur- ”

“Kou.”

“If you could- ”

_ “Stop moving.” _

Only halfway on his back, Uruha froze. His hair was the shortest it had been in a long time (courtesy of Ruki choosing their looks for the fanclub tour), but Reita adored the way it splayed out around his face. Uruha’s eyes darted from side to side—taking in Reita’s arms on both sides of his head—then up, realizing how close their faces were, and then his lips parted for a very controlled intake of breath as it clicked inside his mind. Suddenly the air between them was becoming heavy. Uruha fidgeted beneath him, his throat bobbing in a swallow. There was wariness in his eyes but also something else that Reita couldn't quite pinpoint. His brain was muddled. 

“Are you…” Uruha began carefully, “...going to kiss me again?”

_ Again. _

_ At least that confirms he knows _ , Reita thought. He buried his fingers into the sheets. By God, Uruha’s lips drew Reita’s eyes to them like magnets. 

“Been wantin’ to kiss you for a while, not gonna lie.” 

Uruha not opposing was all the sign he needed. Their mouths clashed and Uruha  _ didn't even flinch _ . Quite the contrary: his arm came up around Reita’s neck, one hand on his jaw, sliding down across his chest until Reita was groaning at the sensation of nails on his abdomen. Uruha’s teeth nipped at his bottom lip, the ecstasy of it all instantly having his eyes fall close. Somehow Uruha felt foreign. They had kissed before, but this was different. This was Reita finally putting his hands on the one treasure he’d been after. Every single inch was there for him to discover anew; Uruha’s tongue, the passion on his plush lips, his waist beneath Reita’s palm—familiar like a best friend would be, yet addicting like a strange new drug. 

When they broke apart, they were panting. Uruha’s breathing was labored and his lips slightly reddened from how hard he had reciprocated the kiss. 

“That night I wanted to retu- ”

“I chickened out because I thou- ”

Both their words came out in a rush, hastily before the adrenaline left them, but then interrupted by one another’s surprised silence. Reita stared down at him in both relief and disbelief before he huffed a laugh and let himself fall down next to Uruha, who giggled. Rolling over, he slid up to the side of Reita’s body, lifting his hand to draw patterns on his chest. Reita gazed down at him and his pretty flushed cheeks. He still couldn't quite believe this had just happened.

“Sorry,” Uruha grinned apologetically. “I had kinda figured out that you like me but I wasn't sure. Not until that show.”

“So you knew I’d gone in to kiss you, didn't you?”

“Of course.”

Reita snorted. Of course he did. Leaning one arm across his forehead, Reita stared at the ceiling in an attempt to order his thoughts. The rum’s effect had slowly faded away by now and it was only the adrenaline that kept his heart beating as fast as it was. 

“So you … like me back or nah?”

“‘Kira, you’re asking me that  _ after _ we made out?”

“Just wanna be sure I didn't down that Daiquiri for nothin’.” 

Uruha sighed overdramatically, pushing himself up so he could rest his chin atop his best friend’s chest. When Reita peered down at him with a raised brow and their eyes met, Uruha smiled. 

“I like you  _ a lot.” _


End file.
